The Brotherhood's Chosen One
by Fury-S
Summary: Knights from the Brotherhood of Steel seek to aid the Chosen One in her travels, whether she likes it or not.


This is actually my first attempt at a fanfic...plz, lemme know if its any good or if its total crap...so far it doesn't follow the game too much, but it will in later chapters...  
Anyhow, the story itself is set in the Fallout 2 time frame. It basically follows the same story. The difference is, though, that the Brotherhood of Steel has decided to help the Chosen One from Arroyo find the GECK...This never happened in the game, but that's where my little twist comes in...thats it...  
  
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We had a deal worked out with the people of Arroyo. Well, since I was on a need-to-know basis for this highly sensitive mission, all I was really told was that my job is to find this Chosen One and help her find a GECK. Thats right, help HER find a GECK. Their almighty 'Chosen One' was a female. Hah! The Elder of the village is a female as well, thats what makes it so funny. This society is run by women, no wonder they need our help. Don't get me wrong, I'm no chauvanist, but any society run by women is probably better at cooking than fighting.  
  
Then again, though, women can be even more violent than guys when they want to be. For instance, have you ever tried to break up two guys that are fighting? They'll stop if you make them. But if two girls are going at it, and you try to break it up... Well, for instance, I've actually needed stitches on my face from scratches I got while trying to break up a girl fight. They can be pretty damn violent when they're pissed off!  
  
The Elder was trying to be real polite to us, but she had this raspy voice that got very annoying after about five minutes of talking to her. I felt like pulling my hair out after a while, especially since she only had one damn chair in her whole tent. And as you might have guessed, she was sitting in it. She looked awfully comfortable, and my feet throbbed from all the hiking. She told us the Chosen One was headed east, to Klamath. Luckily, we had a map that showed us where to go. I got the hell out of that tent as fast as I could, before I ended up yelling at the poor old woman. On our way out of the village, the bridge guard said something to me while he flaunted his spear toward. I think he just wanted to look tough, so I wasn't going to worry about it. I just looked at him and kept walking. God, I hated that place. Even when they're nice to you, you can't stand them. I was glad to be leaving.  
  
Dont ask me what a village like that could possibly have to trade for the help of the Brotherhood of Steel. But apparently, it was important enough to the powers that be to send me and my squad out into the middle of nowhere to be verbally abused by bridge guards and driven crazy by village elders with raspy voices. On top of all that, we had to find some girl they've dubbed the "Chosen One" before she ended up hurting herself. What's next? We gonna change our name to the Babysitters of Steel? It wouldn't be so bad if we didn't have to walk. It could take a week, maybe more, to get to Klamath. But we were on a mission, and the Brotherhood's integrity, like always, was in our hands.  
  
My squad consisted of only three people, including Yours Truly. Kara was my best friend, one that I could always count on. She was a tough gal with a lot of courage. Albert was a sharpshooter I met in the Brotherhood's basic training program. We'd become really good friends, the three of us, and eventually we were made into a squad. I was technically the leader of the group, but to tell you the truth, we had a democracy.  
  
So on our way to Klamath we took the scenic route. Never in my life had I ever seen so much NOTHING. If you're into cactuses and all, you should have been there. I had no idea the wilderness--I mean the wasteland, could be this much fun. We saw just about every type of insect you can think of. The cockroach is the nastiest of God's creatures, I say that with conviction. God made them bad enough, but given time and radiation, they mutated into something worse. Courtesy of mankind's adverse technology--namely, nuclear weapons, roaches are no longer so miniscule in size. Oh, sure, some of them are still pesky creatures the size of your pinky nail, but now they come in jumbo size as well. Jumbo roaches are so big you can't even step on them. You have to blast them with your mp5. As much as you hate them, it's not even satisfying to lay waste to insects that big. In fact, it makes you want to toss your cookies.  
  
This makes sleeping outside especially unappealing. I've never been much of a camper myself. After being taken in by the Brotherhood of Steel, I grew accustomed to their advanced pest control. Boy, if there's one thing I hate, it's insects. If there's one thing that's worse than insects, it's giant insects. This makes camping an unpleasant experience. I really didn't want to walk all the way to Klamath. But then, what choice did I have? Ready or not, here we come.  
  
A couple of days after departing from Arroyo, we were taking one of our evening walks, just having a splendid time avoiding cactuses when suddenly it started raining bullets. They were coming from above, you could tell, by the angle at which the dirt was being kicked up from the ground. I was between Albert and Kara where we were walking, and the burst of gunfire was coming right up the middle, straight for me. Kara dived to the right, avoiding the bullets, and I followed suit. Albert, though, had no choice but to dive left, which was a bad move. It just so happened that the ridge which proveded cover for our attacker was on our right side, where Kara and I put our backs to the wall. We frantically called for Albert to do the same. But before he could comply, he was hit in the chest by the tail end of the burst. Our unknown assailant had stopped to reload as Albert dropped to his knees, staggered, then finally fell face first and kissed the dirt. Before I even had time to think, I'd already unpacked a frag grenade I kept within reach for situations such as this. I wouldn't be able to put a bullet into the sonuvabitch who left Albert bleeding his life out onto the hard, dirt floor, but maybe I could do the next best thing and give the wasteland floor a coat of red paint. I never got to see the fear in the poor old bastard's eyes, but he did yell briefly before he was silenced by an explosion twice as loud as his lungs would ever allow him to bellow. Before I could run out to help old Albert, I had to make sure my enemies were down.  
  
Kara warned me it would be too dangerous, but I scaled the steep wall of the ten-foot ridge anyway. We didn't have the time to go all the way around. I ordered Kara to do the same. It might have been a dumb move, but I'd have done anything to speed things along so I could tend to Albert's wounds. I was surprised when I tasted my own warm, salty tears that were running down my cheeks. Tears of anger? I couldn't tell, my whole body was numb. When I reached the top, before I could do much of anything, I heard the high pitched rimshot sound of an assault rifle discharging on full auto. Dirt was being kicked up into my eyes, and the bullets came awfully close. I panicked, lost my grip, and tumbled down the steep wall and hit the ground with a loud thud. I was as motionless as Albert himself. As blackness stole my sight and I could no longer breath, I found myself wondering if I'd been shot, because I had no way of knowing. My body was numb anyway, I couldn't breath, and I couldn't see. That's all I remember before I lost all conciousness. 


End file.
